All These Years
by robspace54
Summary: What would Thomas Magnum be doing after all these years? Positing his retirement from Naval Intelligence, perhaps a few years ago, I wondered what might draw him back to a previous life... -Rob
1. Chapter 1

**All These Years**

by Robert E. Schorry

_What would Thomas Magnum be doing after all these years? Supposing his retirement from Naval Intelligence, perhaps a few years ago, I wondered what might draw him back to a previous life…_

I had just returned from another book tour, the second printing of _How to be a World-Class Private Investigator_ having finally started to pay off. My years in Naval Intelligence added to the experiences I had long ago in the Islands, and a publisher had at last paid notice. But right now, tonight, it was all about baseball. It was game five in the Series and I hoping that the Phillies would start to come alive. If it wasn't the Dodgers, at least someone could try to beat the Yankees. I was sitting in front of the TV holding a cold Coops, feet up, when the phone rang and I heard a voice from long ago.

"Magnum? Is that you?" The voice had a touch of old English.

I recognized the voice in an instant. "Higgins! Wow! I'm really glad you called. How are you? How are things on Oahu?" I asked.

"Magnum, there is something I need you to do." Jonathan Quayle Higgins III said forcefully. "I need you to come see us. And hope I have not woken you. I was uncertain of the time in Virginia, or wherever it is you are living now."

"Now? Right now?" It was the same old Higgins. But I think I knew how to handle him. "Just drop everything? Run off to Oahu, just on your say-so? You are on Oahu, aren't you? I am in Virginia Beach, by the way."

"Thomas, Robin Masters has called and directed that you immediately come here." The little man was imperious as always. "You must; as soon as possible. Robin has opened the Nest again and I expect him here tomorrow. Will you come?"

I had not heard from Higgins in over five years and yet the majordomo was just the same. Although who was the same after all this time?

"Higgins? Just like that? What's wrong?" This was more than a social call. "What's going on?"

The English voice softened a bit. "Thomas, please. I'll expect you day after tomorrow at the latest. Goodbye."

The line went dead. So I put down my beer and called the airline.

Two days later around noon, I was standing outside the Honolulu Airport Terminal waiting for a cab. I was tired, my back was aching from too-small airplane seats, was foggy from jet lag, and was weary of eating peanuts from tiny bags. I was also $1,600 poorer. I know what you're thinking. Why would I drop everything and fly nearly 6,000 miles just because an old friend called?

Let's put it this way. On the morning of September 12, 2001 was the last time I had talked to Higgins. I was still in Naval Intel then and he had called me on the day after 9/11 to ask me one thing and to tell me another. The question was if I was alright? When I assured him that I was he then told me the other thing. What he said was that he was certain that I would do the suitable thing. There were a number of things that I did around that time that I hoped were suitable, as Higgins put it.

Running off to Oahu at the call of a friend was also the suitable thing.

As the cab took me to Robin's Nest I enjoyed the ride. The sun was bright and sky blue, the trade winds were blowing, and it felt like I was home. Just like the old days. No, that was wrong. Some things could _never _be the same. But I had hope that they might be. I kept asking myself what Higgins and Robin Masters needed me for. There was no way to know until I got there.

The cabby let me off at the gates to Robin's Nest forty five minutes later. Other than a new intercom and a camera perched on the wall things looked unchanged. I pushed the call button and waited. I heard two dogs barking as they raced towards the gate and it really did feel like a homecoming. Two black snouts pushed through the gate. Oh, no! They barked and then stopped at a shouted command from inside the wall.

"Higgins! It's me, Thomas!" I shouted. Dobermans give me a chill at times, even now.

I heard footsteps on the gravel drive and a slim young man limped up. Late twenties, with sandy hair and tanned skin. He carried a cane in his right hand. His gaze was steady. He stopped a few feet from the fence and looked me up and down. "You must be Magnum." He did not look pleased to see me.

"Yeah, that's me, Thomas Magnum. Who are you?" I was trying to be friendly. Really.

The man looked at the dogs and they looked at him. With a twitch of his cane, the dogs darted off.

"Neat trick. They must like you." I smiled at the guy.

He pointed to my duffle. "You got a gun in that thing?"

I shook my head. "No. Just socks and underwear."

He checked me out again, clearly not liking what he saw. "Hm. Well then, I'm Security. Come in." The gates slid open and I stepped inside.

I looked at the guy and could see some scars on his left hand and he had a blotchy area on his neck, but otherwise looked fit. Maybe 170 lbs, about six feet tall. Big biceps. Hazel eyes. The few words he had spoken had a bit of Texas in them.

I tried to soften him up. "You from the South?"

He watched while the gates slid closed, then started to walk away. He gave me that hard look again. "You don't need to know. Come with me."

So I followed him down the drive towards the main house. I had come all this way, and there was no Higgins in sight. It was just like the little major to needle me like this. Maybe some things _were _the same after all.

Light colored gravel crunched under foot as we walked to the main house. I could see a white van near the door and some guys on ladders painting the stucco. The house needed it. The trees and bushes had recently been given a trim, and the gravel on the drive looked new. Robin was sprucing the place up.

We went towards the front door but the security guy stopped. He didn't look quite as grim before.

He cleared his throat. "Mr. Magnum, I'm sorry for how we got started back there. Can we begin again?" He switched his cane to his left hand and stuck out his right. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Nick Christopher. Mr. Higgins hired me last year. He has told me a lot about you."

I took his hand and shook it. "Thanks. Nice to meet you." I said it like I meant it. I went on. "I hope Higgins hasn't filled your head with too many ideas about me." I let me eyes sweep across the grounds and the house. "Looks like the compound is getting fixed up." The painters were clearly almost done.

"No, sir, not too many stories. Yes, the compound was run down. Mr. Masters hasn't used it for a long time. We expect him soon, sir."

Higgins was telling Magnum stories to this guy? Oh boy. I tried to cover my irritation. "Robin's not here yet?"

Nick shook his head. "No, sir. He was delayed coming in from Vancouver. Mr. Masters should be here tomorrow."

Wonderful. I had busted my tail to get here and Robin hadn't arrived. "Any idea what this is all about?" I was as mystified as anyone, but for that matter why had I scampered here so fast?

"No, sir." He shifted his cane back to his right hand and leaned on it heavily. "Sorry, get a twinge once in a while." His faced wrinkled in pain.

I knew the look. I had seen it on my own face too many times in the mirror. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Nick smiled. He knew that I knew. "Both. Last trip was to Helmand Province, Afghanistan. Special Forces. We were in a little place about 50 klicks from Lakshar Gar."

"Rough duty." I vaguely indicated his leg. "Bad?"

"A tour in Iraq; then to Helmand. Seven months in country working with the Brits. IED got me. But the guy used a really thick piece of steel as the pressure plate. Blew me over a wall. Busted my foot pretty good."

Those improvised explosive devices were nasty and they were making them deadlier. I nodded in understanding. "Sorry to hear that. Doing alright now?"

His eyes met mine and I could tell he was lying. "Yeah. It's OK."

Our eyes met again. He knew that I knew. "Let's go to the house."

"Yes, sir," he continued. "I'm not sure why Mr. Masters wanted you to come."

"Would you quit calling me sir?" I was mad but kept my voice calm. "Just call me Tom. And I don't know the reason behind this trip either."

"OK, sir… uh, Tom. Mr. Higgins wondered if it had something to do with Mr. Masters' latest manuscript. It will be his 30th book, you know."

I'd seen the steady stream of Robin's work over the years and there were a few pages in _The Purloined P.I. _ that reminded me of a few of my old cases. But I hadn't kept up with Robin's work. I suppose that Robin had his own reasons for summoning me and I hoped I'd find out soon. Meanwhile the jetlag was giving me a headache. Nick motioned me to the door so we went into the main house.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The inside was little updated from twenty years ago. Same dark furniture, although the wallpaper and paint looked fresh. Nick took me to the study where Jonathan Quayle Higgins III sat behind the big desk; his half glasses perched on his nose, writing in a leather bound journal. He had lost some hair and there were tinges of gray in his hair and moustache, but he looked about the same as long ago, down to the khaki bush jacket.

Higgins put down his pen and stood up speaking in his usual snooty tone. "Ah, Magnum. You are finally here. You've certainly took your time getting here."

Same old Higgins, who immediately put me on the defensive. "Oh come on, Higgins! I got here on the earliest flights I could book. You can't imagine how full airlines are today."

"Oh, I wouldn't know. I see you've met Nick. He's been helping me here at Robin's Nest. We're preparing for Robin's arrival tomorrow. I trust you can stay awhile."

His superior tone got under my skin. "That depends, doesn't it? What's going on? Why does Robin need me?" I felt a headache starting for real.

Higgins said, "Magnum, I don't know. All I can tell you is that Robin directed me to have you come here. I called and you came." He smiled and came around the desk. "And here you are." He stuck out his hand and we shook.

"Thanks, I guess. Where can I…?" My legs felt weak right then. Jetlag was hitting me hard.

"Ah, yes. You can use the Guesthouse… if you must." He went back towards his journal and glanced up at me. "Is there anything else?"

"No." I followed Nick down the hall. So much for a happy homecoming.

Nick grinned at me. "Need a map to the Guesthouse?"

"I think I can find it." I picked up my duffle from the hall and left the house past the painters who were packing up. I marched across the lawn. The ocean to my right was a pale blue and the sky was that solid cloudless shade that you can only see in the Islands. Past the tennis court through the cocoanut palms, and it was there; my old home.

It was ten years ago when I had last been here. Lily and I were living in San Diego then with the NIA keeping me busy with West Coast Operations. The door on the lanai opened to my push and my old address appeared. The furniture looked new, but I was only interested in one thing and that was bed. I had caught the red-eye out of Norfolk, which put me into LAX very late. A few short hours later I was on the plane to Honolulu. The flights had worn me out.

I have a friend who claims the best way to deal with massive jetlag is to drink, a lot. Another says to stay up as late as possible after arriving when going west, and the opposite when heading east. There were likely many magic schemes. But I went right to bed and in no time I was asleep.

The next day I woke up around six. I felt fine. There's something about fifteen hours of sleep that will cure many ills. The tropic sun was still below the horizon when I went out. I'd found orange juice in the fridge and after drinking a large glass went to the beach. The soft sand was perfect for a morning run and I easily put two miles onto my feet. I circled back to the seawall, stripped off my shirt and shoes and started to swim. The ancient turtle pen and offshore reefs blocked the surf and I was at ease in the warm water. Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, and breathe. I fell into an easy rhythm and let my mind drift, but I still didn't know why Robin had summoned me. Maybe he only wanted to talk. I made a few laps of the enclosure with sure easy strokes. Then I heard someone yelling.

Someone on the beach was calling me. "Magnum! Magnum! Blast it, Thomas!" It was a voice I knew too well.

I waved to the little major on the shore and glided into the shallows. "Higgins?" I choked on seawater. "Argh, aahrr… can't you let me finish my laps?"

Higgins slapped his riding crop against his leg. "Thomas, I need your help. Robin Masters is missing!"

The khaki clad figure stood over me. "Robin's plane landed this morning. Mr. Masters and his long-time bodyguard Rene left the airport in a limo. Robin had the driver stop outside a Waikiki hotel undergoing renovation. He left the limo, directing Rene to wait, as he would be gone only a few minutes." He paused to catch his breath then continued. "Rene followed after a few minutes and found Robin nowhere to be found. He was just reaching for his cell phone to call the estate when someone struck him over the head rendering him unconscious. He's in the emergency room from where he just called."

"We'll have to do something about it," I said.

Higgins grabbed my arm as I stood up from the water. His expression said it all. "Thomas, I'm sorry your homecoming had to start like this. Come!" and he strode off to the main house.

For an old man Higgins could move fast. By the time I pulled on my shirt and picked up my shoes he was gone. I raced after him, catching him at the door just as Nick came out holding a cordless phone.

The kid looked flushed. "Mr. Higgins, it's for you."

Higgins took the phone. "This is Jonathan Higgins speaking. Who is this?" He listened for a few seconds then said, "Just what do you think you are doing? Is Mr. Masters alright?" He lowered the phone. "They hung up." He sized up Nick and me for a moment with a grim expression. "That was a rather rude young man who told that he is holding Mr. Masters for ransom."

I was amazed. "Robin, kidnapped?"

"Apparently." He turned to Nick. "Nick, how did they get the estate's private number?"

"I guess they got it from Mr. Masters. He did not sound very nice. When he asked for you, I asked him who it was. He said that if I didn't get you on the phone right away, I'd have a dead author on my hands." The kid was shaking.

Higgins patted him on the shoulder. "That's alright son. We'll find him." He turned to me. "We will won't we?"

I nodded. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just that he would call back tomorrow. And not to call the police." Higgins swayed a bit. "Thomas, I…"

"We'll find him Higgins!" Something told me finding Robin would not be easy. I also sensed something else was brewing; something I was not being told.

Higgins dug a toe into the drive and began pushing gravel around.

"Higgins?" I said with a little sarcasm. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Jonathan Quayle Higgins III pulled himself and inch or two higher before he faced me. "No." he bristled. "I only know what's been said. Robin is missing and that's that. Don't you think you'd better change out of those silly swim trunks so we can get to the hospital and check on poor Rene?"

In no time the three of us where flying down the road into Honolulu. Nick was driving Robin's latest sedan, a BMW. We hit Hawaii 99 and soon were on the H2 headed downtown. The kid handled the car like a dream. It was a silent ride.

Rene couldn't give us any help. His lined faced peered up at us blearily from the white sheets. The bandage on his head wasn't that big, but there were two IVs stuck in him and there was a heart monitor hooked up. "Magnum?" he croaked through cracked lips. "What ... uh." Then his eyes closed. The nurse kicked us out.

A doctor in the hall turned as the door closed and pointed to a young guy drinking a cup of coffee. His suit looked expensive. "You guys came to see him?" He stuck out his hand. "I'm from Kalani Limo. Name's Tsubaki Johnson. I brought the guy in."

We introduced ourselves. Higgins said "Thank you for bringing Rene into the hospital. What happened?"

"Well, I got the call for the pickup at the private air terminal. Arrived just as the plane pulled in. Nice Gulfstream. I think it was a G650. Hadn't seen one of those up close before. Sweet plane. Anyway, I picked up the passenger and his bodyguard. Not much luggage. The passenger, big guy with a deep voice gave me an address downtown. It's an old hotel on Kalakaua Avenue. I was surprised, as it's not a great place. Flying in on a plane like, I figure the guy must be loaded. Anyway the hotel has a major refurb going on. Big mess. Anyway, I pulled into the place. The fare told me to wait for a few and climbed out. The bodyguard, Rene, started to get out too, but the other guy told him to stay. 'Only be five minutes,' he said. Then he walked into the parking garage." He shook his head. "Weird, but not as weird as some I've driven."

"That's it? Nick blurted out. "Then what?"

One of the rules I had written in _How to be a World-Class Private Investigator _was to let every witness tell their story. Nick was breaking my rule. I gave him a loaded look and he shut it. "Go ahead, Tsubaki. What happened next?"

"So we waited. After about ten minutes, the fare hadn't come back. That's when the other guy went into the building. I got out too and stood by the car. Rene went into the garage, and after a minute I heard a shout. I dashed in and found Rene on the ground; his head was bleeding. I loaded him into the limo and came here. Thought I'd better stick around." He shook his head. "No sign of the passenger."

I asked "Anything else?"

"Oh, yeah, there was a white van that burned rubber out of there just as I ran in. Didn't catch the license plate."

The dark-haired lady doctor butted in. "You're friends of Rene?"

"Yes. I and these gentlemen, like Rene, are employed by the same company - Masters Enterprises."

Now I was an employee? Higgins could play with the truth a bit. I turned on my charm. "Can you tell us how Rene is?"

She looked me up and down and smiled. "Let's go to the desk and we'll deal with the legalities."

I met Higgins and Nick outside a few minutes later. The limo driver was leaving with a big smile. Nick was putting away his wallet.

"I hoped you tipped him, Higgins."

"Yes I certainly did. What about Rene?"

"He won't be going anywhere for a while. Severe concussion from head trauma. The doctor said it looked like someone nailed him from behind. And for a man of his age, it's not great. They may discharge him in a couple days. I asked the doctor not to file a report to the police for a few days. Just as a favor. She agreed." I smiled at them.

Nick and Higgins traded looks that were priceless. I kept grinning at them. I was old, but still had _some_ charm. Finally I spoke up. "I think we should check out the hotel."

Higgins said, "Nick and I had better get back to Robin's Nest and wait for the next phone call. You do what you have to do." Sounded like a dismissal. "You _do_ know what to do?"

Same old Higgins. "Yeah, I do." So I did.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Downtown Waikiki, the scene of the crimes; kidnapping and assault. The old hotel had the look of a battered molar, chewed on for many years, and now after a couple of root canals it was waiting for the dentist to pull it. I had hitched a ride with the limo driver and got a rental car from the airport. Now at least I could go where I wanted or needed to, without Higgins and his young pup tagging along.

The hotel high-rise garage had a smell of oil-stained concrete, plaster dust, and hot metal, with a dash of something old and dead. I nosed my rental car into a parking spot, headlights bouncing off the gray walls which reflected my mood. This did not make sense. Why did Robin come here? And why was I here? Why did somebody attack Rene? Was that part of the kidnapping or something else?

Prying my creaky body out of the car I walked past a line of trash containers to the lobby door. There were a least a dozen of the massive steel containers filled with carpeting, drop ceiling supports, stained ceiling tiles, fragmented counters, and five-gallon paint buckets – the debris of any building after many years of use and abuse – now consigned to a landfill.

The lobby carpeting was a trampled dingy grey, the walls painted with stripes of brown, orange, and gold, new when Agnetha and Frida first belted out _Dancing Queen_. Workers were hauling out tip carts of trash to the garage amid a din of power saws and jack hammers. Peering through a cloud of dust I could see a work table covered by scattered blueprints, a laptop, a cell phone and three people waving their arms at one another close by.

A passing worker yelled at me and pointed to a pile of hardhats by the door. I grabbed a yellow one and stuck it on my head, then approached the demolition war room.

There was one voice blaring through the noise. "You guys are killin' me! You said you'd have all that stuff off the mezzanine by today. I've got the masons showing tomorrow to start the forming! The bankers will have my tail for breakfast if we're late again!" This from a little guy in a shiny suit, his hardhat seconds from falling off his head as he waved his arms and flung his head around. "Now get your butts up there and put some life into those guys! Fire a few if you have to!" The underlings disappeared and the guy took off the plastic headpiece and wiped his brow.

From the back there was something too familiar about him. He was once a scared kid strapped into a Huey Slick, the grips of an M60D machine gun clutched in his sweaty fists. "Rick? Is that you?"

Orville Wilbur "Rick" Wright III whirled around and yelled at me. "Thomas? What the hell are you doin' here!"

I grabbed his outstretched hand and he pulled me into a hug. Of course I hugged him back. Suddenly we had an audience; a silent ring of workers giving us the eye as two men in their 60s gave each other a giant bear hug.

Rick screamed at them. "Hey! This is my old Nam buddy, Thomas Magnum! And I will hug him if I want to! Any of you monkeys what to make something of it?"

I laughed as our spectators departed.

"Now, Thomas, what are you doing here? Must be what, ten years since I've seen you?"

"Yeah, about that long. Just doing a little job for Higgins."

"Higgins? How is that crusty old bastard? Man, he still gives me the evil-eye every chance he gets!" He guffawed. "Not that that will ever change!" Rick laughed some more.

"Rick, what are you doing here at the Hotel Despair?" I waved at the dirty walls.

Rick said, "I and my investors bought this dump and are ripping it apart so we can put it back together. When the economy picks up we'll be ready. New condos only blocks from Waikiki Beach, right near lots of restaurants and shops..."

"Whoa, whoa, Rick! I didn't come here to buy a condo, I'm looking for…"

Rick butted in. "And today I've got my biggest investor dropping in for a quick look. He might increase his stake and if he does, we can buy the joint next door and double the units. A real high roller, he owns IHC. You know the big conglomerate."

Rick had come a long way from running the King Kamehameha Club and his rotten disco from the 70s. He had grown up after all. I opened my mouth to ask about the events of the early morning in the hotel garage, when a shrill scream of high-tech machinery penetrated the ancient building. Rick dragged me out the back of the lobby to see a red Bell Jet Ranger helicopter float down onto the torn up grass.

The skids touched down, rotors whirled overhead as the right side door opened, and two suits climbed out. One tall with a briefcase; the other older and burly. They came around the chopper towards us. The older African-American suit whipped off his sun glasses and gave me a giant toothy grin. And suddenly I knew who the big shot was.

Theodore Calvin, but always T.C. to me, came close and over the sound of the slowing copter rotors barked out "Thomas Magnum!?" He put hands on hips and gave me a scowl. He turned to his assistant and nodded at me with his head.

The adviser whipped out a PDA and with a whirling stylus assaulted the device. Peering at the screen, he shouted out "Magnum, Thomas Sullivan III. Account shows no activity since 1989, principal amount owed for goods, loans, car repairs, copter fuel, and services a total of $17,989.13, plus interest of course." He displayed the device to T.C.

T.C. scowled at the tiny screen as if it was trying to bite him. "Well? What about it, Thomas?" His voice sounded ratty.

"Oh come on, T.C! I thought we squared that long ago!" Some people have memories that are way too good.

He stepped closer and peered into my face intensely. His pencil moustache was all grey. "Well?" he growled.

I reared back as he threw his beefy arms around me. He cracked up laughing. "Thomas, you should have seen your face! Gotcha!" Rick gave him a high-five and a hand shake.

"T.C! You had me going. Wow! Been a long time." That was too scary.

T.C. stalked around me looking me up and down. "Well, you haven't changed a whole lot, but for the hair." He laughed as he touched his own bald head. "But we're all just a little..."

I didn't want to talk what Time had done to all of us. "So you're his big-shot, according to Rick? Pouring some dough into this wreck of a hotel."

T.C. gave Rick a hard shot in the arm. "Well, our business relationship has been better. Right, Orville?"

"Now, T.C. hold on! I said last week we were on time, well, we were, I mean…" Rick trailed off rubbing his arm. "But you should see the new schedule, and if you'll let me explain?" Pleading now. "Come on, T.C! Don't be a hard ass!"

"Ha, ha, HA! Got you too!" He shook his head as he chuckled. "Both you guys are too easy. Rick, let's go over your new schedule, and then we'll buy Thomas some lunch. We need to catch up!"

"Later, Thomas. Business, you know," and sweeping T.C. under his arm Rick ushered T.C. and the aide into the building.

As my two friends walked out of the hot sun, I went back into the garage. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I started inspecting the place. The tire marks where the white van had spun its wheels were easy to see. Also a pool of transmission fluid where it had sat for a while.

A darkened blood spot marked where Rene had been coshed or at least been found. I pulled out a mini flashlight and started scouring the ground. My jeans quickly picked up a coating from the dirty concrete. As I was crawling around I contrasted what I was doing with the power brokering on next door between two old friends. Who knew that Island Hoppers, T.C.'s old charter business, had grown so much? IHC must be Island Hoppers Corporation. I didn't read the business pages so how could I know?

I found a few scuff marks on the concrete but nothing obvious. Whether the marks were made this morning or last year I couldn't tell. As I leaned against one of the trash containers I heard an electronic beep. I took out my phone but had no missed calls. So it wasn't my phone. I waited a few seconds and heard the noise again. Circling the bin, I figured it was coming from _inside _the thing.

It wasn't hard to climb over the side. As I pawed through the piled construction junk I managed not to get impaled on rusty steel. In the corner under a pile of water-strained Fiberglas insulation and lying near a pool of paint I found a cell phone. A tiny LED was flashing on it. I flipped open the cover and the screen lit. Date and time were superimposed on a picture, which I recognized as the cover of Robin Masters' first novel _Dead Scream_, published long after he became a success. Looks like I was getting somewhere at last!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The restaurant was too nice. T.C. and Rick in their suits fit in just fine, but I stood out in my faded shirt and scuffed jeans. The hostess had a disgusted look when she seated us. I'd given her my best smile, but she had not been impressed.

Rick struggled to oil his way into T.C.'s wallet a little more after we ordered drinks. Rick had asked for a Martini, T.C. went for a diet cola, but I just asked for orange juice. Breakfast was a long time ago and I needed the sugar. Rick was spouting off more financial facts of his condo dream development until the drinks came, when T.C. cut him off with a brusque wave.

"Orville, enough! Ok? Let that stuff wait until later. Man, you are giving me the willies with the hard sell. Park it!" He turned to me. "Thomas Magnum, what are you doing back in Hawaii?" He laughed "Not that I am sorry to see you or anything."

So I told them about the abrupt summons by Higgins, my rushed trip, the attack on Rene, and Robin's kidnapping. All of which threw me into this unplanned reunion with the two of them. They were suitably surprised.

Rick said "Thomas, man. Sorry that you have to work, well, I mean nice to see you and all, but what a lousy reason for a visit!" He looked at T.C. long and hard. "Maybe we can help you out."

T.C. had been slurping his drink; now he choked. "Help? Oh my God, not again! How many times have we had to save your sorry tail? Man, the times I had to risk my neck to pull you out of some hellhole. If it wasn't Nam, it was from a mountain top or some bad guys, or…oh Hell. Thomas Magnum! Has there ever been a time that I haven't helped you out?" He nodded his shiny head. "You actually think I'd stand aside? Man, what are friends for?" He pounded the table. "And I guess we will again!" He laughed his deep T.C. laugh. "Right, Rick?"

Rick tried to drill a hole in the tablecloth with his finger. "Yeah, we have to. I guess. Thomas, what do you need from us?"

I held up the cell phone I had found. "I'm pretty certain this must be Robin's phone. But I can't get into it. The thing is password protected. I'd sure like to know who he's been calling lately. Any ideas?"

Rick grabbed it. "I know some people…" He laughed. "Of course I know some people! We'll see what we can do. I know a guy who can probably hack it."

"Better make it fast, Rick. I don't know what our timeline is on this thing. Hours or days?" I turned to T.C. "I'd sure like to go back to the hotel and poke around some more. How about after lunch?"

The food came and we ate, setting Robin's kidnapping aside for a few minutes. I heard all about how IHC was now a big part of inter-island transport plus bringing in freight from the mainland. Rick weighed in with how his various companies put his fingers into a lot of pies, most of which made money. I thought about my tiny two-bedroom condo in Virginia Beach and how my paltry author's income was struggling to add to my Navy retirement. Maybe I should have studied investing.

T.C. picked up the check, Rick took off to look into the phone, while the two of us headed back to the hotel.

Back in the garage again, T.C. was making very sure not to get his suit dirty. He turned up his nose at the garage smell and the dirt. "Been a while, T.C?"

"Yeah, Thomas, to tell the truth the dirtiest I usually get anymore is in a sand trap at the country club but I do work on cars when I get the chance. In fact I've recently been working on a sweet little car…" he stopped abruptly. "Oh, never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing. Say, how we do know that the white van the limo guy saw was the kidnapper's? And how in the world can we find it?"

"I don't know T.C. but this all seems fishy to me." At least I had someone to talk it out with. "Why did Robin come here? Who was he meeting? Did he leave in the van or go somewhere else? Why did Rene get knocked out?"

T.C. was squatting over the pool of transmission fluid rubbing it between his fingers and sniffing at it. "Thomas, it's been a while, but I think this is from a very old van. The internal seals are shot, that's what gives off this burned smell. The guy probably has to top it off every couple months."

I was amazed. "You're telling me that you've built a corporate empire and know car transmissions too?"

T.C laughed. "Old buddy, the smell of hydraulic fluid is something I'll never forget and don't think I've been driving a Mercedes forever either. Till just a few years ago I still worked on my own cars." He looked at his expensive watch. "Thomas, I just have to take off – got a meeting. I'll call you later." He was gone in a whirl of rotor blades.

There wasn't anything too revealing in the garage and the hotel itself was awfully busy with demolition. But nearby was a rental agency, Baptist Church, an ABC Store, and across the street another hotel. I went door to door, asking if anyone had seen or heard anything around six that morning. I got a solid hit at the ABC.

The manager had been in to restock very early and had seen a white van circling the block. She remembered it as her _tutu kane_, her grandfather, drove one just like it. Grandfather had been a TV antenna installer. He carried his tools in the van, complete with ladder on the roof, just like the one this morning. As I was leaving she added, "In fact, there might have been two vans. Or it was traveling very fast around the block. Seemed like I kept seeing the darn thing too often."

I walked into the living hotel across the street. The lobby was filled with fresh flowers and there was a busy trade in tourists. The economy might be down, but those who want to and could, came to the Islands anyway. Maybe Rick's building was dreaming to be like this one again, someday.

I found the manager and asked who might have seen anything across the street. He sent me to the morning bell captain who was just ending his shift.

The bellman was a genteel dark-skinned fellow with white hair, who spoke in a very respectful way. He seemed very tired. "Yes, sir. I was here at 6 AM this morning," he said. "Nothing very unusual today, it's pretty quiet that early. Not much going on. But I did see a haole come of out that hotel garage over there and get into a white tradesman's van."

"Was there a ladder on the roof?"

"Yes," he replied quietly. "The man, perhaps older than you sir, waited at the curb for a few minutes. I think he used a cell phone as he waited. The van stopped on the garage ramp. The man spoke to the driver and then the side door opened. I couldn't see as just then a limousine pulled in to this hotel and I had to help the driver unload it."

"Did you see the license plate? On the van, I mean?"

"No, sir. I did not. But I heard a voice shouting from inside the garage. It sounded like someone calling out a name. Then the white van started up and sped into the garage. I could hear tires squealing."

"When the haole got into the van did anyone help him in?"

"No sir. The door opened and he climbed in. I got the impression he knew the people inside."

I thanked him and let him go home to rest. I had found out some things. The van was _waiting _for Robin. It was a white windowless van with a ladder on the roof. And the transmission leaked. It could be almost anywhere, just like Robin. Somewhere in the 597 square miles that makes up Oahu, _The Gathering Place_, Robin was hidden. Now I had to find him


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I drove away from downtown, trying to figure out where to go next. The facts in this case were scattered and hard to connect. As I drove towards the H1 I could not believe how many white windowless vans I saw. Most had names on their sides, but many did not. Maybe an enterprising driver could even run two businesses out the same vehicle. But it wouldn't do to have _Frank's Dry Cleaning_ on the side of a van delivering flowers. I was near the highway when my cell rang. I pulled into a parking spot and cracked it open.

"Thomas? It's Rick!"

"What you got for me, Rick? Any luck with the phone?"

"Yeah. You'd better come over here. You've got a lot to wade through."

The address Rick gave me was off the Nimitz Highway inside a warehouse. It was filled with the whine of fork trucks carrying pallets of boxes. I found Rick and his tech maven in a windowless office at the back.

Rick waved me in. "Magnum! This is Malo. I think he's found some things you may find interesting."

The big Hawaiian guy looked up from his computer, racked against the wall with a lot of cell phones plugged in around it. "Hi! You see here we take cell phones and recycle them. We even have a service to help out owners who have scrambled their phone info. This one," he pointed to the one I found, "is a little different. But I don't think the FCC will hear about what I've done." He gave Rick a secretive look.

Rick said, "Malo, I owe you one again. We'll settle up later. Show Thomas what you found."

"Here," Malo said and handed me a thick document. "This is a list of all the numbers stored – there are about five hundred. Every name seems to be in code. You'll have to figure those out. But these sheets," and he gave me some more, "are the time and date of every call made in the last two weeks. The third and fourth pages list the time of calls to each number."

I hefted about a half-pound of paper, rapidly flicking to the last two sheets. Malo had listed them in descending order. Many numbers I did not recognize. The one to Robin's Nest stood in the center. There had been eight calls. Probably Robin telling Higgins he was coming. The one above it had received fifteen calls. That number was likely his publisher and the name was _Benjamin Franklin_, a somewhat known historical printer. But I was most interested in the one at the bottom of the list; just a single call. The name said _Canvas_.

I left the warehouse, while Rick argued with Malo about how much his special services were worth. I was cruising back towards downtown, when I realized I was being tailed. It wasn't that hard to see the car, a beige hatchback. Especially when the car sped through every light to keep up. I took some oddball turns and managed to lose it.

Now I had someone watching over me. Another weird thing about this case - I was stopped at a light when the hatchback came through the intersection on a cross street right in front of me. I got a good look at the driver. It was Nick.

I decided it was time to talk to Higgins again.

I pulled into Robin's estate admiring the spruced up looks of the grounds and house. The flower beds were well trimmed and the house looked perfect. Ready for Robin's arrival, when I could find him. Higgins was in the studio, scribbling away again.

"Any progress, Magnum?" he growled as I came in.

"No, not really. Found a few things, but I'm trying to connect the pieces. And get a few questions answered. For instance, how long have you known Nick Christopher?"

"He's worked for the estate a year. He was hired when he left the Army. He is very highly recommended."

I pursed my lips as Higgins spewed out the expected answers. Nick was trustworthy, loyal, helpful friendly… you know the rest. And a decorated war hero, perfect to head up security at the Estate. The little major was just hitting his stride when I held up my hand, and he stopped the accolades. "If he's so perfect then why has he been tailing me?"

The little major shot out of the chair. "What? Are you accusing Nick of something? Do you think he's involved in Robin's kidnapping?"

I slammed my fist onto the desk. "No Higgins! I'm not accusing him! Since dawn I have had a very nice swim, heard part of a kidnapper's phone call, rushed to the hospital, snooped around a falling down hotel that Rick hasn't helped so far, met T.C., had lunch with two old friends, talked to a techie about cell phones," my voice was starting to bounce off the wall "and then find that Robin's head of security has been following me around!" I paused to breathe just as Higgins started to speak, but I cut him off. "Just what the hell is going on Higgins? Level with me!"

Higgins frowned. "Magnum, I had no idea." He went to the window and looked over the grounds. "I only know what I told you this morning. And I only know what the kidnapper told us, plus what the limousine driver said." He turned around and his eyes fell to the desk. "Oh my God, Magnum what have you done to Robin's desk?!"

There was paint on the desk top, perfectly showing the imprint of my hand. The pale paint - a shade of tan - stood out brightly against the dark surface. "Geese, Higgins, sorry. I must have brushed my hand against the doorframe when I came into the house. Guess the house paint is still wet."

He pulled out a handkerchief and tried to vigorously wipe the paint away. It smeared across the desk top. "Thomas Magnum," he screamed, "I'll have you know this desk is an antique! It was brought to the Islands in 1826 by Reverend Rutherford of the Boston Congregational Church! You've completely ruined it! I shall have to…"

A light bulb went off in my head. "Higgins," I asked very quietly, "if you were rehabbing an old hotel would there be painting going on while demolition is still under way?"

The non sequitur stopped Higgins' tirade about the desk. "No, I don't believe there would be."

"That's what just I realized too." So I headed back to Rick's hotel.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I eased the rental into the garage as a large truck was starting to haul out the trash containers. I jumped out as Higgins was struggling with his seatbelt. Try as I might, I couldn't stop Higgins from coming along. Dashing to the last two trash filled containers, I saw what I was looking for. There were about a dozen five-gallon plastic paint buckets inside. This was the bin where I'd found Robin's cell phone. Pulling myself up over the side I pulled one of the buckets out and yelled with glee, my voice echoing through the garage.

I was prying the lid off when Higgins came panting up to me. "Magnum, have you lost your mind? I know in your detective days you stooped to many lows, but climbing into trash bins is a new one to me."

"_Investigator_, Higgins, _private_ _investigator_. And I am _still_ investigating." I pointed to a label on the lid. "This is just what we need." The label read Color: Stucco Tan Enamel, Sold To: JR Painting Inc.

Higgins stiffened. "Good God, Magnum that's…"

"Yeah, I guessed." I pulled Higgins back to the car and consulted Robin's call list. The last phone number on Malo's list matched that on the paint lid. Now I knew who the painter was and I knew the connection. "Higgins let's find a phone book."

We strode into the hotel lobby where Rick was screaming at the site manager again. "I'm dying here!" Rick's face was purple. "We have to get this done! Today!" The harried contractor stalked off.

"Rick, if you keep screaming at people like that they'll all quit or you'll have a heart attack." I advised.

"Thomas, if I don't keep riding these guys..." he saw Higgins and his face fell. "Hi, Higgins. Um, long time no see."

Higgins stiffened his spine. "Rick, I can see that your management skills haven't improved. You could act exactly the same when you managed the King Kamehameha Club. Now it's been my experience that you must always maintain the subordinate's self esteem. There was a time during the Burma Campaign…" he trailed off. "Oh, sorry. Just an old war story."

Rick rolled his eyes at me and said, "What are you guys doing back here? If you're going to stick around you need hard hats."

"We're not staying long, Rick. Have you got a phone book?" Finding the address of JR Painting was easy. It was an address on Manoa Road up towards the valley.

We drove away from the hotel and sure enough the beige hatchback was a few cars behind us. "There he is again." I tried not to let the flowing driver see me as I took quick glances at the mirror.

Higgins looked out the back and said, "I'll take care of this! Pull over!"

I pulled to the curb and Higgins opened his door and leaped out. He quickly ran into traffic and jumped in front of Nick's car forcing it to a screeching halt. Nick was stunned; too stunned to move as I ran behind the car, pulled the driver's door open and jerked him out. He struggled but I pinned him to the car.

Higgins put his face inches from Nick's "Young man, you have a great many questions to answer."

There was a coffee shop around the corner. That close to the beach it was a 24 hours breakfast spot for tourists, which means the prices were huge. But we cornered Nick in a booth and ordered coffee. Higgins ordered tea. Nick squirmed as we fixed him with blazing eyes.

Higgins was all affronted rage. "Nick! I can't believe that you'd be involved in this! What were you thinking?" He harrumphed. "In all my days in the British Army…"

I was little calmer. "Come on, Higgins," I said. "Don't call out the firing squad, just yet." I smiled at the kid, who was sweating. "So, Nick, you want to tell us about it?"

"I can't. I just can't. If I tell…" the kid gulped. "I can't say anything."

"That's it? Ok, Higgins! Call the firing squad."

Higgins nailed Nick with his dark eyes. "Nick Christopher, you are discharged, immediately. Do not return to Robin's Nest! I'll have your things sent to you… in jail!"

That sent a message. The kid gulped and spoke. "I'm sorry. I was told to follow you. After we left the hospital I drove Higgins back to the Estate then made an excuse about a doctor's appointment. I came back to the city in my car and went to the hotel. You had just left with Mr. Wright and Mr. Calvin. I hung around until you came back to the garage. I then followed you to the warehouse, but you likely know that."

"Why, Nick? Who told you to follow me?"

Nick shook his head.

"Come now lad, tell us. Robin's life may depend upon it." Higgins had gone into his gentle commander mode. "It will be all right. Now tell us. Who told you to follow Magnum?"

Nick ran his hand around the table in circles then spoke quietly. "It was Robin Masters."

I looked at Higgins and his mouth was hanging open just as much as mine was. Now it made sense, at least to me.

Higgins snapped out words like a bulldog. "Mr. Masters? That can't be?"

Nick said "He called me last week at the estate, Mr. Higgins. You were taking a stroll on the grounds when he called. He told me not to tell you."

"Tell me? Tell me what?"

"That he had a surprise planned. For Mr. Magnum, that is." Nick shook his head. "I know it sounds crazy but he is the boss."

I looked at Nick long and hard. "So where is Robin, right now?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know! It's been eating me up. When they called this morning at the estate they said they'd kill him. That wasn't supposed to happen."

Now it was my turn. "Supposed to happen?" I reached across the table and grabbed the kid's arm, very tightly. "Supposed to happen?!"

Steam came out of Higgins ears. "That's it? That's all? Come clean Nick or by God…"

The waitress brought our order right then. I could imagine what she was thinking.

She looked and sounded scared. "Everything all right here?"

Higgins turned on his British charm. "Yes, young lady. My friend here was just demonstrating a classic judo hold on the forearm for our young friend. I'll pay the check now, if you please."

We got out of there before the cops showed up. We questioned Nick some more back by the cars. He was ready to talk. "Look, the plan was that Magnum would come here, ok? And Robin would disappear and I would keep an eye on him." He cleared his throat. "Uh, but, uhm, I… I was supposed to call Mr. Masters and keep him informed but he won't answer his cell phone. I tried several times this afternoon and he won't answer."

I help up Robin's cell phone and inspected the screen. "Oh, look the ringer's turned off." I turned it on, and in a few seconds a beep counted out four missed messages. I showed Nick the screen. "See? These are you right?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. That's me." He sagged against the building. "There's something else you should know."

Higgins turned his steely eyes at him. "Yes, Nick."

"I, uh…I was the one who arranged the pickup at Mr. Wright's hotel."

I smiled. "Yes, I know Nick. It goes to figure. What say we go check out JR Painters?"

"How did you know it was them?" The kid was puzzled. "How did you figure that out?"

"I am an _investigator_, remember?"

Higgins said, "Well, Magnum, what do we do?"

"Higgins, we call to see about getting a house painted."

It was all too easy in hindsight. Robin cooked up this scheme to get me here and give me the run around. I still didn't know why. Nick had realized the painters would be available, as they should be finishing at the Estate right about when Robin arrived on Oahu. Nick had already done a background check on the company, so he could trust them to meet Robin early in the morning. But things changed when Rene showed up. He hadn't been robbed either so that pointed to something simpler.

We had Nick call JR Painters and they told him they were working, surprise, surprise, in a hotel. In fact it was one I'd been to before.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It's a funny thing about hotels. People come and go all the time and many are invisible. Who pays any attention to the housekeepers, cooks, clerks or bellmen, or even maintenance people? Or say, a bunch of painters?

Higgins and Nick followed me in Nick's car while I drove my rental. We pulled into Rick's hotel project once again. The filled trash containers had been replaced with empties and construction work continued. I'd been here so many times I felt I should have my name painted on a parking spot.

We went into the dusty lobby and found Rick and T.C. looking at blueprints while T.C. was speaking. "Ok, Rick. Here's the deal. I'll give you the extra dough, only _if_ you set up the penthouse the way I want it. It would be awfully handy for corporate meetings and such."

"Deal, T.C. Man I'm glad we got that worked out." They shook hands and Rick was smiling. 'Thank heavens we came to terms."

I grabbed my two friends. "Rick, T.C! Glad you guys have ironed out your differences. Now I need the two of you to help us."

T.C. turned with surprise when he saw Higgins. "Higgie-baby!" he began. "I haven't seen you in a long time!"

"Yes." replied Higgins coldly. "Good to see you, T.C." I could tell Higgins was gritting his teeth. T.C. always could get under Higgins' skin.

After a short discussion the five of us marched out. The living hotel across the street was very busy. A tour bus had just pulled away after disgorging a gaggle of lei-bedecked visitors. Bellmen scurried around sorting luggage and guiding guests to the front desk. Our little team marched in like we owned the place. The elevator took us to the 22nd floor where the painters had told Nick they were working.

Our plan depended on speed and distraction. With Higgins I was certain we had more of the latter and not the former.

Nick and Higgins stood at the door of Suite A and knocked. The door was opened by a paint spattered grey-haired guy, not tall, his tanned skin showed he was long to the Islands. "Hi, Nick, how are you?" he said. "And Mr. Higgins, too. Well isn't this nice" he sneered. The smell of fresh paint drifted into the hall in a heavy cloud.

Higgins turned on his stiffest British manner. "Yes, JR, I wanted to talk to you about the bill." He waved a paper; a schedule from Rick's hotel office. "You see, this is far higher than the original estimate!"

Nick leaned on his cane trying to look meek, but he was craning his head around trying to see into the room. "Why don't we go inside and go over this."

JR seemed reluctant to let them in. "Look you two." He held out a paint dripping roller as a shield. "We're working in here and now is _not_ a good time. What say I come to that fancy estate tomorrow and I'll go over the figures with you then." He tried to close the door.

Higgins held the door open. "My good man, _now_ is the time."

It was as a good a code word as any. I turned the corner, wearing a yellow hardhat and trailed by Rick and T.C. They carried rolled up blueprints while I snapped a tape measure back and forth and carried a clipboard. I started waving my hands and pointing. "Now I think we'll have to take out this wall, and move all those conduits over here." We marched up behind Higgins and Rick.

T.C. said "Excuse me," as we shouldered our way into the room.

JR backed up, confronted by the three of us. "What are you guys doing here? The building inspectors have already been in here. And we're painting for crissakes!"

"Look, wise guy," said Rick, "we are with the state! Those guys last week were from the city. We trump them every time!" He and T.C. did look very official in suits and ties.

Meanwhile I was wandering around pretending to measure the walls. The door into the next room was closed. "What's in there?" I pointed to the door.

"Stop!" yelled JR. "You can't go in there!"

He quit yelling when T.C. grabbed him from behind. "Drop the paint roller buddy." He did as he was told. "Don't squirm or I'll break your arm!" he hissed.

Rick sidled up to him. "And keep quiet or you'll be in bigger trouble."

Nick and Higgins came in and the three of us went to the closed door. Nick grabbed the doorknob and got ready. Higgins got into his judo stance, and me, I took off the silly hardhat and got between them. Nick pushed open the door and the three of us rushed in with Rick and T.C. guarding the rear.

Across the room, surrounded by three paint-smeared workers sitting on upturned buckets, sat Robin Masters on a folding chair. He was reading from a paperback with a lurid cover. His listeners were enthralled. His deep voice boomed through the nearly empty room. "_Mark knew that the satellite phone signal was blocked by the cave roof. But if he couldn't make contact, Phyllis, the love of his life, would surely die in the most horrible way. He had to keep trying." _Robin looked up. "Hello Magnum," he said. Then he smiled. "It took you long enough."

I threw the clipboard onto the canvas covered floor then turned and looked out over the sunlit tropical city through the tall windows. Nice view. I swallowed my anger. I turned to the famous author. "Hello, Robin. Glad to see you too." I tried to smile. No really, I did.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Robin then spat out the whole story. He had concocted the entire scheme; authors do that you know. Knocking out Rene was a mistake when one of the painters got scared. The guy was most apologetic. It wasn't likely that Rene would press charges, as he was on the mend and no police report had been filed.

When the painters picked up Robin that morning they had driven around the block once again and entered at the rear of the working hotel across the street. Disguised in a coverall, Robin was just another painter.

And the empty paint buckets in the dumpsters? JR and his little band had arrived at the garage early and had cleaned out their van. Some people used the trash containers rented by others routinely. They had too. Throwing away Robin's cell phone was a change to the plan. Robin thought of it at the last minute.

"But why, Robin?" By now we were sitting on the balcony drinking cool drinks. Room service had responded quickly when Robin called the front desk. The painters were now back to painting the outer room and we were alone. The breeze brought the smells of the sea to the building. The sun was setting in the west and it was another nice evening in Honolulu. "Why all the intrigue?" In spite of the view I was still mad.

"I've been working on another novel. And somehow I just couldn't wrap it up. I was out of inspiration. I had to shelve that project. But I recently signed a contract with a producer for a screenplay. You won't believe the title '_The Lost Autho_r.' How about that? Never having written a screenplay I needed some inspiration and you Magnum, well…" he held out his hands to me and laughed, "you fit the bill."

T. C and Rick practically fell out of their chairs laughing. But Higgins was upset. "Mr. Masters. Robin, I'm still not happy about Nick going behind my back."

"Jonathan, there are many things that I have asked you to do for me. Technically many of those were behind _someone's_ back."

Higgins nodded. "Quite right, Robin. All is forgiven." He still looked a bit distressed. "But why couldn't you trust me?"

Robin grinned. "Higgins, you are still writing your memoirs, aren't you? If I distract you, you might never finish them."

"Hm, well, yes." Higgins sounded a bit happier. "I am now up to late 1976. It was the last time I saw David Worth. We were hiking on the Pali. We were photographing the rare…" he slowed and stopped. "But you don't want to hear about that."

"That's alright Mr. Higgins, you can tell me about it later," Nick said. "Mr. Masters, sorry I wasn't able to continue the game longer."

"That's alright son. I think you'll get sharper in time." Robin now turned to Rick. "Mr. Wright? I trust that your condo project is proceeding with enough financing? If not I could…"

Rick beamed. "Well, Robin, I mean, Mr. Masters, I'd be glad to talk to you about it some time."

Robin now looked over to T.C. "T.C? You have that little package I asked about?"

"Sure, got it downstairs." T.C. smiled his best smile. "A nice piece of work if you ask me. Finished it up today, just as you asked."

Robin hoisted himself out of his chair. "Well gentlemen, I think that's about it, let's go. I know a wonderful spot for dinner near the Ala Wai Marina. Let's go there."

Somehow I felt like my questions had not really been answered. But we piled into the elevator at Robin's bidding. Leaving the elevator, there was a stir outside the lobby.

Robin put his arm around me. "Thomas, I understand that you have retired from the US Navy again?"

"Yes, Robin. Once and for all. And I am happy about it."

"Good. You know I never sent you a retirement gift, did I?" He shook his head. "I'm unhappy I missed the event. Perhaps I can make it up to you."

"That's alright Robin." It really was. There was a crowd outside the lobby, clustered around a car. A red car.

T.C. and Rick grabbed my arms and pushed me through the crowd. Robin was beaming as he said, "Thomas Magnum, here is your car. The title transfer is in the glove box. A little present from me." He pressed keys into my hand.

Parked there was a bright red Ferrari 308GTS. "Oh come on! Robin, it can't be!" The roof panel was off and just sitting there it looked like it was going 70 miles per hour.

Robin laughed. "Yes, it is! T.C and his team did the work and I paid for the restoration. It's only fair. You've driven it far more than I ever did!"

I ran my fingers over the lovely red curves. I was absolutely floored. The Hawaii license plate read _'MAGNUM'_ in bold letters. This was too much. "Robin, I can't believe it! I can't accept it."

"Oh Magnum, of course you can," said Robin Masters. "That's what this whole escapade was about! I needed to get you here to take the car. Consider it a reward for finding the _Lost Author_. After all these years, I think I owed you. Maybe you'll stick around for a while." He laughed and climbed into a waiting limo. He waved to Nick, T.C. and Rick to join him. "See you at the Marina!" Then they were gone.

Higgins laughed heartily. "Come on, Magnum let's go dine! I suppose I'll have to ride with you."

I tossed the keys in my hand, opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. My hands felt like they'd never left that wheel or shifter. I started the engine while Higgins walked around to the passenger door. The V8 engine sounded sweet.

"Magnum this door is locked. Will you unlock it?" he asked.

I pushed the shifter into first and eased in the clutch, pressing the accelerator down. As the car started to roll, Higgins ran to keep up.

He yelled, "Magnum, blast it! Don't leave me!" I could hear him screaming over the whirling Italian machinery.

What would _you_ do?

I took my foot off the gas, braked, and threw out the clutch. The motor purred to an idle. I opened the passenger door and yelled. "Come on, Higgins! Get in!" With a big smile, he climbed in and the two of us sped off.

- The End -

**Thanks for reading and letting me bring Thomas Magnum into the twenty-first century!**

**This story sprang from my head, during a trip to Honolulu in Fall 2009, what Magnum would be doing in the present. The idea of setting the scene in a condo was given to me by an unhappy traveler on the plane home whose hotel was next to one undergoing a noisy and messy demolition and refurbishment.  
**

**Rob**


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